


Search History

by Mustachebabs



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Oops I googled how to become a murderer AU, Villaneve, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustachebabs/pseuds/Mustachebabs
Summary: Eve Polastri figured she’d move to London and land a job at MI5 and have a prosperous career as an international security operative... But if she can’t even get her foot in the door, she has to think fast if she doesn’t want to end up working dead end jobs in London.Good thing there’s the internet and a very cryptic classifieds listing.





	1. Search M for Murder

_She wasn’t desperate. This was just part of searching for a job._

The search engine’s stark design mocks her. Eve taps her fingers on her desk, she’s got her mug full of coffee and is hoping to at least get a few applications sent during the rest of the afternoon.

What else is she to do at this point? Continental moves aren’t cheap and her interview with MI5 hadn’t gone… as great as she’d hoped. If she wanted to keep this flat and not have to pack up and head back to Connecticut, she had to find a job. _Pronto_.

Hoping for some divine intervention from her laptop, Eve places her fingers over her keyboard. The keys have been through a lot, even without pressing down on them they make a soft _clickity-clack_ sound. She starts typing and hopes for the best.

_How to be h…_

_historian_

_hir..._

_hiring manager_

_hired…_

_hired gun…_

Eve clicks through on the last one, if only to make herself chuckle. Then it’s three hours later and the only light source left in the room is her laptop’s screen. She’s gone through more search result pages than any human would dare to admit in public, but it’s all so… Engrossing. Blog posts, discussion boards, dubious listings… The internet was a strange place, but Eve felt like she’d found the door onto the even weirder basement.

It’s not until her bladder can’t take another second, that she finally takes a break. Her coffee was left forgotten within the first hour and she grabs some leftovers out of the fridge on her way back to her desk. _One more_. One more click through and then she’ll switch over to watch some shows and call it a night and try again tomorrow.

She clicks on a link that leads her to an actual normal looking classifieds site. It lands on a post within it that looks innocuous enough.

_Looking for person with forensics experience for a project._

_Text_ _+XX XX XXXX XXXX_

_Way to be informative…_ But Eve _did_ have forensics experience and she _did_ need a job. Worst case scenario this ended up being fake or if it was a creep she could just get a new sim card for her phone easily enough. According to the post’s timestamp it’d only been online for less than 48 hours, maybe nobody had reached out yet. _Why not?_ After another mouthful of her lo mein leftovers from two nights ago, she grabs her phone.

_I am reaching out regarding your post looking for someone with forensics experience, is this opportunity still available?_

Eve hits send and stares at her phone screen for a moment. There’s no immediate typing bubbles or any sign of receipt… After a moment, she just puts the phone down and promptly forgets about it for the rest of the night as she switches screens on her laptop and goes back to her latest binged show’s episode.

-

Her alarm wakes her up with a jolt the next morning. She’d  made it to bed around 2:00am after a few episodes, her desk still littered with her forgotten mug of coffee and the container from the leftover lo mein. As she turns off her alarm, she notices she has a new text message waiting.

_Yes, this afternoon._

_Patisserie Montclair, 3 o’clock._

_So succinct_. However, maybe not an axe murderer either. Patisserie Montclair was in a pretty swanky neighborhood for being a potential spot to be kidnapped. Eve sent back a “see you then” but once again, there was no sign of an immediate reply, so she busies herself with breakfast and deciding what to wear instead.

How does one dress for a mystery interview?... Or is this more of a freelance opportunity? This was going to be hard to explain to people if it did pan out into any sort of job. The steady decline of her available funds leaves her with little option though, so she decides business attire is probably best.

_Better safe than sorry._

Deciding how to wear her hair takes her longer than choosing her outfit. She plays with it in the mirror and switches between having it up or down a few times and then walks away after achieving an acceptable curly bun. Not five minutes later, she’s back at the mirror, shaking her hair loose.

_Maybe down would be better._

So she leaves it down and wears a very nice blouse and grabs her coat on the way out to catch the bus. It’s an uneventful ride from her quiet neighborhood to the area close to the patisserie, it’s not a particularly touristy spot, but a lot of the locals of the area are out and about. Her destination is tucked in next to an alley. Eve is about 45 minutes early, so she paces and pretends to walk by and checks out the small park close by. When she makes it back in front of Patisserie Montclair she still has 20 more minutes to kill, but that’s probably okay. Peeking through the glass window doesn’t give her any insight of who it is she might be meeting.

Eve heads inside after another moment, there’s a mother and her daughter and a guy reading a newspaper off to the side. She heads to the counter and the teenager behind the register greets her cheerily as she looks at the menu.

“I’ll have an americano, please.”

She pays for it and heads to a table for two against the wall while the order is prepared. It’s far enough from the other customers that it won’t be as easy to eavesdrop if this meeting ends up being some weird proposition. She puts her coat on the chair farther in. It gives her a clear view of the entrance and puts her back to the “employees only” door. Which she assumes leads to a backdoor, in case this meeting ends up being some weird proposition.

The bartender calls out the americano and Eve heads back over to the counter to retrieve it, making small conversation as she requests a few sugar packets. When she turns back towards the table, there’s someone sitting opposite the chair with her coat.

A young woman with soft features, full lips, and a long neck is sitting at the table. She’s absently ripping apart a croissant with her hands. Certainly not the looks of an axe murderer, but maybe that’s exactly how hired killers hide in plain sight?

“Um, hello…” Eve says softly as she returns to her seat.

The woman looks at her for a moment, without saying anything. Eve notices her eyes then, wide but alert. Very catlike.

“Are you the person looking for someone with forensics experience?” Eve asks in order to break the silence between them.

“That is me. I’m Villanelle.” She has an accent when she speaks, offers her hand across the table.

“Eve Polastri, nice to meet you.” Eve accepts the gesture, Villanelle’s hand is soft. “So, what kind of project is this? I have extensive knowledge in various forensic fields, as well as a Master’s in Forensic Analysis...”

She pauses, unsure if this was to be some sort of formal vetting process or if Villanelle would have taken right about anyone that answered the posting. Either way, she seems uninterested in Eve’s academic credentials as she eats a piece of her croissant. After another moment of silence between them, Villanelle lifts her finger, as if remembering something.

Reaching into her fur coat, Villanelle pulls out a photograph and slides it over for Eve to see.

“What do you see here?”

The photograph looks innocuous enough. It’s an open plan kitchen and living room. Eve looks at it for a moment. _Forensic expertise_. Show Villanelle what you got.

“Well, this is probably the residence of someone affluent. The kitchen has a modern design, so it’s possibly custom made or in a brand new construction… The upholstery looks relatively unused too, so whoever lives here spends more time away from home than actually there.” Eve leans in closer to the picture as she looks at the couch on the scene. “The couch’s upholstery is lighter here… Like there was something on it that was removed with the wrong product. Perhaps something hard to remove? Judging by the spot it’s in, on the backwall of it, it doesn’t look like it was food nor does it look like any children live here...”

Villanelle stops her then.

“You see all that in this picture?”

Eve just nods, a little unsure if those were all the wrong details or if those where the things Villanelle had been hoping for. Villanelle makes a face as she sits back on her chair.

"I just thought the decor was _gaudy_.” Villanelle has trouble with that last word and then it clicks for Eve.

_Russian._

Villanelle has a Russian accent and Eve hopes her face doesn’t betray her looming internal panic as she takes a sip of her coffee. If Eve was to accidentally stumble through the backdoor of Europe’s hired gun world via an online posting, she would assume it would happen through association with a Russian hired killer. Even if Villanelle didn’t look the type. How would Eve had guessed that either way? Maybe she’s just overreacting, she tries to cut the tension building between them.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s a picture of a post-clean up crime scene.” Eve adds with a short laugh. Villanelle doesn’t laugh though, just folds the photograph and tucks it back inside her coat. “It’s probably just a stock photo though, right?”

“I want to hire your services.” Villanelle says simply, going back to ripping a piece of her croissant and eating it.

Eve shuffles in her seat a bit. “For what, exactly?”

“I need an assistant.”

An assistant? What can of assistance could someone with a shady online posting and a strange pseudo-roschach test as an interview system need?

Eve clears her throat, rephrases her question. “Doing what, exactly?”

“Oh, you know... Setup, breakdown, some logistics management.” Villanelle sounds extremely uninterested as she explains this. She’s hard to read, Eve is unsure if Villanelle just _thinks_ whatever her job is as monotone or if this really is some sort of really mundane opportunity.

_A job is a job though._

“Good pay too.” Villanelle adds, as if reading Eve’s mind. “Are you interested or no?”

That sounds a little impatient now and despite herself, Eve nods.

“Yes, yes I am.”

A small smile formed on Villanelle’s face and quickly faded. She pops the last of her croissant in her mouth and stands up. It catches Eve off guard, but in her scramble to stand up as well she bumps her knee on the table.

“I will be in touch in the next few days.” Villanelle says, looking at Eve one last time and walking out of the pattiserie.

  
Eve just watches her go, doesn’t add anything else and lifts her hand too late to wave goodbye. This is by far the _weirdest_ interview Eve has been on.


	2. Accomplice to Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First days at a job are usually not this bloody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the warm reception of this work, y'all! While the body is still hot, here's another chapter. I will be updating tags/rating as we go along, this chapter already up'ed them a bit. Hope you continue to enjoy and I'll have more soon!

Eve should have asked more questions.

_Do you work for a larger company?_

_What more can you tell me about the work I’ll be doing?_

_Can you give me your full name and contact info?_

_Is this legal?_

Instead, she just went home and went about her life and stared at her phone as if she was considering texting an ex or not. She shouldn’t be pushy, at least give it a week before following up about the position. That’s what you were supposed to do for normal jobs, but this whole thing was beyond normal right out of the gate.

Villanelle (or what she assumes is Villanelle’s number at this point), reaches out two days after.

_Industrial Edge Studio_

_Tomorrow, 8:00am_

If this was how she always texted, Eve can’t even imagine what her emailing looks like. Eve has to search where this place is, a photography studio, once again in an area of the city Eve can’t ever imagine being able to afford. Maybe her paranoia is just getting the best of her, maybe Villanelle is just some eccentric investor of some kind and this just her next strange endeavor. Either way, she types in the address onto her phone and maps out how to get there on time the next morning.

 -

 _She’s early again._ Across the street from the studio, Eve fiddles with her scarf and pushes it inside her coat. She hadn’t been sure what to wear again and this scarf was one of the nicer things she owned. Eve also wore her hair up in a messy bun.

“ _Eve Polastri_.” Villanelle’s voice startles her.

When Eve turns, Villanelle has a short smile on her face from the reaction she elicitated. Her hair is on a braided updo and she’s wearing a black suit with blue and red accents. _Villanelle looks incredible_. Whatever type of work environment this was, Eve was now sure they did not encourage Casual Fridays.

“Hello.” Villanelle adds, deadpan once more.

Then, Villanelle gestures her to follow along. They cross the street towards the studio and head towards the back of the building. A photography assistant! Villanelle wasn’t kidding when she said there was good pay involved. Maybe Villanelle took the photograph Eve saw at the pattisserie? Eve hopes she didn’t offend Villanelle’s artistry by the comments she provided about it.

“You’re a photographer? I couldn’t have imagined this was the kind of work you were describing the other day. Very cool!” Eve says conversationally as she tries to keep pace with Villanelle.

When they reach the backdoor, Villanelle looks behind them briefly before deaftly entering the number combination on the electric lock. _When did she put on driving gloves?_ The lock makes a whirring sound and then clicks open.

“I am not a photographer.” Villanelle says simply, pushing the door open and leading them in.

Now Eve is worried again.

It’s dark inside the studio once the door closes behind them and Eve is not sure what is happening. She hears Villanelle move around but loses track of her in the darkness.

Villanelle clicks something on and suddently the studio is flooded in white light, Eve covers her face for a moment at the sudden brightness. Once her eyes adjust, Eve sees Villanelle standing on the other end of the room.

“Stay here.” Villanelle instructs pointing at her and then disappears behind a door that must lead deeper into the building.

 _Okay…?_ Eve shifts her weight, looking around the room. The studio lights’ humming is the only sound around her. She tries to listen for any sounds beyond that might tell her what they might be doing at a photography studio with _not_ a photographer.

There’s no other sounds for a while.

Eve’s eyes drift around the room. Whoever’s studio this is, it’s state of the art. Eve’s not even sure what some of the equipment is for, to be honest. The door handle moves then and her eyes dart back to it.

It’s… Something.

The handle turns and Villanelle’s foot swings the door open the rest of the way as her hands are busy… Holding down a middle aged man that she’s dragging into the room. Eve can’t believe what she’s seeing, can’t even find any words as her mouth opens and closes without a sound as this happens before her.

Villanelle pushes the man onto the middle of the studio, where a grey curtain is set up to serve as backdrop from floor to ceiling. His hands are tied behind his back with what looks to be silk cloth, another one around his mouth to serve as a gag. He’s also wearing nothing but boxers, the upstairs part of the building must be an apartment...

He must have been sleeping.

 _He’s_ the photographer.

“Pose.” Villanelle instructs, extending her hand out, which is holding a gun. She comes around to where a photographer would normally stand.

Except Villanelle is not a photographer and Eve is unsure why, but she can’t move and she’s not sure if she’s even breathing right now.

The man wriggles miserably against his restrains and Eve flinches at the sound of the shot despite the silencer, her hand coming up to her mouth even though she can’t seem to make her vocal chords work right now. It’s silent other than the humming of the studio lights once again.

“Okay, let’s go.” Villanelle offers, as she tucks her gun back inside her suit jacket and walks past Eve and opens the backdoor through which they came in.

Eve doesn’t look over her shoulder when she follows behind Villanelle.

“I have transfered you funds for this assignment. They should be in your bank account already…” Villanelle explains as she guides them down the street and away from the studio like they are just on a morning stroll.

Whatever shock this whole situation should have caused Eve, morphs quickly into anger. How _dare_ Villanelle involve her in this? Eve just wanted a job, not be an accomplice to _murder_.

“How did you get my bank account?!” That seems like the more pressing question at Villanelle’s explainer as Eve follows her in a huff, her voice sounds exasperated but she at least manages to keep her tone down to prevent making a scene around them.

“What, like it’s hard?” Villanelle shrugs if off, like allocating funds into strangers’ accounts is commonplace. “I heard that in a movie.” She chuckles at herself.

If Villanelle was trying to be amicable with that comment, Eve’s frustration prevents it from registering.

“Listen, I don’t know what this is about, but if it’s some sick prank for foreigners I am _not_ having fun.” Eve says and Villanelle stops dead in her tracks and turns to look at her.

 _Don’t anger the murderer. Don’t anger the murderer. Don’t anger the murderer._ Whatever bravado had allowed her to choose fight instead of flight until that point drains right out of her.

“This is serious work.” Villanelle says.

Eve swallows hard.

“Well, it is work I do not want to be involved in.” Eve manages this, the rest of her energy completely focused on preventing her knees from giving out on her.

For a second, Eve thinks those would be her last words as Villanelle brings her hands towards her.

Villanelle pulls the scarf out of Eve's coat, arranging it so it just falls over her shoulders, and delicately traces her fingers over the design before speaking.

“You have no choice.”

Eve doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until Villanelle finally steps away from her, places her hands in her pockets and keeps walking down the street.

Eve does not follow her.

 -

Eve goes straight home. There's no cops at her flat or warrants for her arrest yet. She kicks her shoes off and opens the banking app on her phone, maybe she'd dreamt that whole morning and would wake up any second. Her available funds have a number of digits she’d only ever seen on her student loans before. She covers her face with her hands, what was she going to _do_?


End file.
